The Girl Who Waited
by Cecilia Swift
Summary: Flashes of the relationship between Remus and Tonks. The title comes from the long-running British television show, Doctor Who: after my sister suggested Karen Gillan might have made a good Nymphadora Tonks.
1. The Umbrella Stand

**The Umbrella Stand**

Number 12 Grimmauld Place was just as grim as it promised to be, Tonks surmised, unhooking her trapped jumper from the gnarled black railing and checking it scrupulously for tears. No, she decided, the cheerful knitted red buses continued on their merry way in eternal circles, uninterrupted. Alastor Moody, standing a step above her, rolled his good eye at Tonks' ever-alternative outfit choice (less a choice than a bleary-eyed early morning lunge into her wardrobe) and went inside. Shrugging her shoulders and tripping over the final step, Tonks followed. "Wotcher Mad-Eye," she snorted, "Molly's gonna have her hands full." Moody harrumphed in agreement as he elbowed his way past an umbrella stand, disturbing a cobweb and sending the spiders occupying it into a frenzy. Molly Weasley was sure to sweep into Grimmauld Place any day now, dragging her ginger brood behind her, but even her homemaking skills would be tested by the years of dust and silence that inhabited the place.

Having successfully dodged the peeved spiders and the umbrella stand entirely, Tonks was congratulating herself on her graceful entrance into the house when the door through which Moody had disappeared was suddenly pulled open once more. Tonks collided with something tall and made of cotton and brown buttons, smelling vaguely of wood smoke and apples. It might have been rather pleasant were it not for the fact that one of the aforementioned buttons had pierced Tonks' eye. "Ow!" she exclaimed, her eye watering, and all hopes for a graceful and mature introduction to the Order dashed. She could hear muffled laughter and one prolonged "ha!" which was probably Sirius.

"I'm terribly sorry," said the brown thing, which now appeared to be not a brown thing after all, but a man wearing a brown cardigan, on which hung the offending button. "I didn't see you there."

"That's okay; I was bound to bump into something. It was either gonna be you or the umbrella stand." As Tonks' vision cleared, she found she recognised the cardigan-wearing assassin, who had chuckled and extended his hand, no doubt to negotiate terms. Or introduce himself, either was possible.

"Remus Lupin," Cardigan Man said. Something stirred in the back of Tonks' memory and, bizarrely, around the red buses that rode over her stomach. This she put down to low blood sugar; having set down her sandwich at lunch and then promptly forgotten where it was.

"I'm Tonks." They shook hands, and it was nice. His hands were as kind as his eyes. "Sorry, you're not Sirius' Remus, are you?"

"Of course he is!" Sirius' head popped up, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Although don't go around saying it like that. The man's practically a monk and everyone will think we share the same bed or something."

Remus blushed the same shade as Tonks' hair, tonight her favourite bubblegum pink. "I remember you as a girl, Tonks. Your hair," he gestured vaguely towards her head, "was somewhat different then." They laughed. At the kind suggestion of Moody ("All three of you get your arses in here so we can start.") Tonks shuffled into the room, catching a second whiff of wood smoke as Remus excused himself and squeezed past her into the hall, returning when Tonks was seated with his arms full of paper.

Aside from Minerva McGonagall and a dark-haired witch who introduced herself as Emmeline Vance, Tonks was the only woman in in the room, and definitely the youngest. She squirmed in her seat, nervous, as she shook hands with old teachers and made awkward small talk with a man on her right whose name was as refreshingly ridiculous as her own. Who calls their kid Mundungus? Her nerves were peaked until lovely Arthur Weasley, her old friend Bill's dad, squeezed her shoulder on the way to his seat. Moody waited until the small company was seated before clearing his throat.

"Let's begin. We're a small number tonight, but that'll all change in a few weeks…" Tonks listened intently, desperate to prove herself, especially in front of Sirius. She had marvelled over recent weeks how perfectly he fit into the patchy memories she had of him from her youth. The same boyish charm, the same air of mischief. The same roving eye: He had snuck out of Grimmauld Place a fortnight ago to meet her in a Muggle pub a few streets away, only to ignore her all evening to chat up three busty German blondes. He sat now, his chair balanced on its two back legs, affecting an air of carelessness. Tonks knew better than to believe it.

And then there was Remus. She found herself eying the buttons on his cardigan rather often (all except the violent one), too shy to look into his face.

"… and, of course, we have Tonks with us." Moody's voice was like shoes on gravel, she had decided upon meeting him. There was a snap and crackle to it, like a bonfire. "She qualified as an Auror last year and will be working covertly at the Ministry from now on. Best girl I ever taught." Tonks lifted her chin; Moody wasn't given to offering praise, and despite the teasing sexism she was rather pleased and embarrassed with such commendation. She twitched her nose twice so that it grew to resemble a Pinocchio puppet's, earning her laughter and smiles. The biggest came from Remus, she noticed, and for some reason this made her doubly happy. Of him she had a single strong memory. She wondered if he shared it, or if was he too sad to have kept it?


	2. Firewhisky

**Firewhisky**

She was beautiful, and he hadn't been expecting that. Rather, he had been expecting the same ten-year-old waif, with short brown hair (blue at the ends, which was all her mother had allowed) and too-long arms and legs who had seen him to her front door over a decade ago. Could she remember? He risked a glance – but no, she was looking at his coffee mug. She would have been too young, and it was an event of little consequence. In his mind's eye he pictured two half-moons and an open palm, whilst the woman before him now blushed at Moody's praise and momentarily morphed her button-nose into a Pinocchio-replica. He smiled without having to try.

An hour later, the Order members took a final swig of their coffee, pinned their cloaks to their backs and left, exchanging solemn but hopeful good byes with their fellows. All except Severus Snape, Tonks noticed, who left his coffee to stew in its mug, ignored everyone and had never removed his cloak in the first place. What a creep. Moody slapped her on the back, the impact of which, after nearly four years, still shook Tonks to the core. Then he too was gone.

She hadn't moved, and had no intention of doing so. The fire was warm on her back and Sirius had spiked her fresh cup of tea with Firewhisky, winking conspiratorially at her and not even bothering to pour himself a glass before taking a swig from the bottle. "Sirius," Remus warned, only to then laugh at the look of cherubic innocence Sirius feigned.

"How's your mum, Nymphadora?" Sirius asked pointedly, cackling when Tonks crossed her eyes and flared her nostrils. "Ha ha, always wondered what she meant by giving you that name."

"It's such a stupid name. Makes me sound like I wear togas and have fruit in my hair. Speaking of which: I'm starving," Tonks yawned, stretching her arms like a sleepy child and reaching into the cupboards in the hope of finding nutritional sustenance in just one of them. "Sirius, all I can find is Firewhisky and toilet paper. Is this for when your German girls come round?" She raised her eyebrows and grinned cheekily, hands on her hips. Sirius sniggered and ogled his empty alcohol bottle, "Not a bad idea…" Remus, who thought everything Tonks said was funny, chuckled and directed her towards his own set of cupboards.

It was like visiting the kitchen of a man twice Lupin's age. There was a bag of fresh green apples, cheap muesli in plastic tubs, four bars of chocolate and a pack of Rich Tea biscuits. I wonder… Tonks mused. She grabbed the biscuits and returned to the table, where Sirius was dozing, his friend having sensibly extricated the glass bottle from his clammy palms.

"You don't mind?" Tonks asked, indicating the biscuits.

"No, no, not at all!"

Tentatively, Tonks began nibbling on a biscuit, smiling slightly as Remus did the same. For a man so careworn and wise, it made him look remarkably young.

"Nymphadora –"

"Please don't call me that. It's such a silly name."

"On the contrary, I think it's beautiful." Remus instantly regretted what he deemed to be an inappropriate comment, and a lapse of judgement on his part. Tonks' hair flushed red as flames, which she put down to the Firewhisky. "Nevertheless, if you prefer "Tonks" I will, of course, oblige."

"Thanks."

"Actually, I-I wanted to ask…" Remus stared into the fire, swallowing a huge mouthful of tea. "…if you remember –"

"I remember you coming to my house that time." Tonks looked straight at him. "I mean, I know that you must have been there when I was younger, with Sirius, but… I remember when you came by yourself." That child-like vulnerability had resurfaced in him once more, and it alarmed her. She turned her head to look into the flames, conscious of his child-eyes on her face. It unsettled her; she had felt so safe with him. She wanted him to be old and wise again. "You were wearing this long cloak – it was far too big for you… Mum brought out the tea tray, which she only did if we had special guests over… Man, I hated that thing. She used to make me pour the tea, but she got so sick of having to charm the broken bits back together that she made me stop." She laughed, and he tried to do the same. His hands were clenched around his mug, his knuckles white and his throat dry.

"Why were you there, Remus?" Tonks dared to ask, hazarding the sapping of the relaxed atmosphere. "I know it's rude to ask, but I always wondered."

He cleared his throat again, choosing his words carefully. "After James and Lily died, after Sirius was sent to Azkaban, I went travelling. There were parties in every bed and breakfast and cheap pub I went to – for the Potter boy, the Boy Who Lived. But I couldn't take part in any of them. Who would I have to celebrate with? Everyone I loved was gone…"

"I couldn't get a job anywhere for long," he continued, laughing dryly. "My… condition, didn't earn me any favours. I went here and there and eventually found myself back in London. Your parents had been kind to me when Sirius used to babysit you, so your mother invited me to visit again. Like old times, she said…" He smiled, but it was bitter. Tonks felt the Firewhisky burning the back of her throat. "Your mother was very kind, Tonks. She offered to help me out financially – I couldn't accept, of course. I wasn't rich, by any means, but... I got by."

That wasn't what Tonks remembered. The Lupin she saw in her mind's eye was gaunt and pale, his clothes frayed and ill-fitting, his eyes dead. His head hung now – he was tired still. "It was too difficult for me to visit her after that. London reminded me of everything I had lost." He wouldn't talk anymore, she knew. So she would make him smile, instead.

"And then we shared the last biscuit!" They laughed, relieved.

"Yes, and very good it was too." Instinctively, Tonks reached over and placed a white hand on his wrist. He was warm; the material of his cardigan rough as matted fur. She gave him a friendly squeeze. Remus stared at her hand for a moment, as if it puzzled him; this effortless offer of friendship on her part. And then, tentatively, he squeezed her clown hand with his elegant one. They were like children making a pact in the playground. Friends? Friends.

"So." Tonks sprang from her seat and fished another bottle of Firewhisky from Sirius' cupboards. "Tell me about the first time Sirius got drunk. Go right from the beginning…"


	3. Remembrances

**Remembrances**

He sat, long limbs arranged on a wicker chair, balancing on the balls of his broken brown shoes. Clinking bone china and cold tea. How strange he was. Old and young at the same time. He was tall, but looked terribly vulnerable, clutching her mother's good china. Later, Tonks would stroke the pink flowers painted like ribbons around the width of his cup. They are a good luck charm, a flower garland she would like to hang around his neck to keep him safe. _Poor Mister_, she thinks, _you'll be okay._

He spilled biscuit crumbs down his front; apologised profusely. Her mother's brows knit together in concern. He was missing several buttons from his jacket, and Tonks had a good mind to search for them. He left a biscuit at the side of his saucer, and rose like a ghost on his way to the door. Tonks raced after him. She was wearing red plastic shoes, which she hated. They made a clip-clop sound on the pavement she was pounding. She felt like a show horse. She tugged at the ghost boy's cloak.

"Lupin. You forgot your biscuit." He turned, smiling. For a moment, he was no longer prematurely old.

"You keep it Dora, for being so kind." She considered the biscuit – by no means her favourite; far too dry for her ten-year-old palate. Looking up into his pale face, a cold moon on a winter morning, she snapped the biscuit into two clumsy halves. She smiled, wished him good luck, and clip-clopped home…

Leaving Lupin with a smiling half-moon in the palm of his shaking hand.


	4. Orange Essence

**Orange Essence**

By November, Tonks and Remus were firm friends. Remus was more at ease. He spoke very little, but when he did it was with sense. His fellows listened to him with all the respect he felt he never deserved. And he found, for the first time in many years, that he looked forward to the company of friends. He, Tonks and Sirius would drink Firewhisky late into the night, swapping stories and sharing in tipsy laughter. Sirius would drift into an alcohol-induced slumber and snore quietly at the table. His survivors would pull their chairs closer to the hearth, stoke the fire and continue talking.

Remus, who was practically tea-total, bit his tongue whenever Tonks poured herself another glass of Firewhisky. He rather liked it when she did; her clumsiness was enhanced and her laughter was even louder. She was hardly ever still, always pulling faces or wrinkling her nose; snorting in disgust or throwing her head back to laugh. It comforted him, somehow. She laughed with her whole body – kicking out her feet, slapping her leg, leaning forward in her seat. She was happy, effortlessly so. It was mesmerizing, and he was jealous of it.

When she burst in through the door of Number 12, Grimmauld Place and hollered "It's me!" she would rouse the welcoming tones of Mrs Black's portrait ("Blood traitors! Scum!") and, dropping the forests of paperwork she had brought with her, would greet Sirius and Remus in the hallway sporting a sheepish smile. Tonks came to borrow Remus' neat handwriting and to entertain her stir-crazy cousin. "You know what I think?" she said once, as the trio rested in the kitchen after a particularly nasty screaming fit from Mrs Black. "We're like the Three Musketeers. Valiantly shutting up mad old bats one shot glass at a time…"

Tonks loved visiting Grimmauld Place, which struck her as funny. It had seemed so imposing on that first evening. She had found herself trying to catch Remus' eye during meetings if ever Snape delivered a pithy comment about dogs being allowed on the furniture, after Sirius having said something particularly silly. They were so different; Remus and she. Tonks was constantly fidgeting, desperate to expel the energy that queued up at the tips of her fingers and toes. It was one of her particular characteristics: her lack of patience.

Remus, on the other hand, was like stone. He was the quietest man she had ever met. Each and every move he made was predetermined and purposeful. As if to make up for his quiet grace she found herself tripping over furniture more often and knocking over Butterbeer bottles at particularly quiet moments. She valued his insight and interest in her work, and she missed him when he was gone. By the middle of July he was away for days at a time on private business for Dumbledore, and by the time these tasks were completed Grimmauld Place was overrun with Weasleys and the Three Musketeers had disbanded. No more Firewhisky by the hearth, no more afternoons spent in companionable silence in the library. Just loud conversation, a makeshift Molly Weasley cleaning staff, and endless red heads…

"You're back." Remus turned to find Tonks, sporting red curls, behind him. His face split into a wide smile that faltered as she sprang forward to hug him. _Wow_, Tonks thought, _Merlin's beard, I've gone for that._ She wasn't the hugging type, especially with men. It always gave them the wrong idea – how many awkward teenage ask-outs had she suffered in the corridors at school? How many times had she developed heartburn after wolfing down toast and tea, dodging an amorous Quidditch player and racing back to the Hufflepuff common room? But she had missed Lupin, and she wanted him to know it. Besides, what danger was she in from Remus? He still hadn't answered her burning questions about the rumours that Peter Pettigrew had tried it on with him in the Gryffindor boys' dormitories once. Actually, that was probably something Sirius had made up for a laugh.

"Indeed I am," Remus said, recovered. "You look like a mini-Molly this evening."

"What? Oh, the hair! Yeah, I just, you know. When in Rome…" She gestured around the room at the sea of red hair and knocked Ginny's porridge bowl out of her hands. Remus chuckled at Tonks' frantic attempts to hex the porridge stains out of Ginny's new blouse. Ginny having excused herself to search out her mother's more capable cleaning spells, Tonks turned back to Remus, mortified.

"How was your trip? Did you miss us?"

"It was a little lonely, but very successful. I managed to convince some of the werewolves in the eastern covens to consider an alliance with the Order. They were very good to me a couple of years ago – took me in when I had nowhere else to go…" He tipped his head, as if in hiding. "And yes, I missed you very much. It was far too quiet after so much good conversation."

They smiled at each other; friends, equals. For a moment Remus thought he saw a few strands of Tonks' hair flush pink, but Ron had just entered the room and the amount of red in such a small place was leaving him dizzy. Tonks had opened her mouth to speak, "I thought that tomorrow –" Kingsley Shacklebolt had elbowed his way through the sea of red to warmly shake Lupin's hand, though, and Tonks found herself swept to the other side of the room by the impossible red current. She sat next to Sirius, who was smirking earlier in the evening than usual. That was weird: Snape hadn't even arrived yet.

"Evening, Dor," Sirius grinned. Strangely deflated, Tonks decided to ignore her cousin's baiting. She settled back in her chair and watched as the formidable Molly herded her brood from the kitchen. Snape arrived and settled himself at Dumbledore's side, threw Sirius a dirty glance and proceeded to whisper into the older man's ear. Mundungus was monopolizing Hermione; discussing the benefits of cauldrons when smuggling "not strictly legal" substances through Apparating stations. Hermione, obviously appalled, was throwing Ron desperate glances. Instead of doing the heroic thing and rescuing Hermione from endless cauldron talk, Ron snorted and folded his arms, chuckling madly as his mother ejected him from the room. It was Molly who saved Hermione, giving her a gentle nudge toward the door and scolding Mundungus for talking so. Tonks winked at Hermione; courage.

"Friends," Dumbledore began, "might we settle before Severus takes points from _all_ our houses?" Everyone chuckled; Snape had made Dumbledore check his pocket watch four times since his arrival. Tonks sunk lower in her seat – was this a headache coming on? She felt miserable. A mug of steaming, sweet-smelling hot chocolate was placed in front of her by a long tweed arm. She looked up to find Remus smiling knowingly at her.

"I added a little orange essence to it – thought it would cheer you up." He then nudged a chair into the empty space on Tonks' left, and settled himself in it. Tonks, who now felt a little too queasy for hot chocolate (what was that about?), nevertheless was pleased, and took a sip. She could see Sirius' shoulders shaking with laughter out of the corner of her eyes, and briefly wondered what Severus had done now. She swallowed in order to ask, and –

"Merlin's beard, Remus, that's amazing!" As far as Tonks was concerned, the mystery of Lupin's sexuality had been solved: Any man who read as much Muggle poetry as he did, and who knew that adding "orange essence" to hot beverages led to at least seven kinds of happiness, _had_ to be gay. And was she disappointed? She was, a bit. It was all Nymphadora Tonks could do to keep her hair its fiery red when she realised that she was harbouring a girlish crush on Remus Lupin…


End file.
